


Padawan at War (Again)

by soft_but_gremlin



Series: A Padawan at War (Again) [1]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Injury, Mentioned Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi's Self-Esteem Issues, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:14:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24685924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soft_but_gremlin/pseuds/soft_but_gremlin
Summary: There were a lot of things that Obi-Wan didn’t know now, ever since he’d woken up in a strange medbay on a strange ship populated by hundreds of identical troopers. What he did know is that every single one of them swore that he was actually in his thirties and that he was a General who commanded a huge number of troops in a war against Separatists.So now Padawan Obi-Wan has to figure out how to fight a war he doesn't know anything about. Oh, and the nine-year-old kid that Qui-Gon picked up from Tatooine is here too.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Series: A Padawan at War (Again) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1792372
Comments: 66
Kudos: 798





	1. Chapter 1

Obi-Wan fiddled with his padawan braid as he read through the documents on Sith artifacts that Master Nu had sent over, wishing that Qui-Gon was here. Qui-Gon would have known what to do, would have excelled at the adaptive tactics needed for this ridiculous situation. More importantly, it would be better for everyone else if they could rely on a full Jedi master rather than a constantly-disappointing padawan.

Qui-Gon wasn’t here though, so Obi-Wan had to step up and figure everything out. So far, that meant reading a lot on battle strategy and Republic combat maneuvers in his spare time and reading even more on Sith artifacts and how to reverse their effects in whatever time he could eke out beyond that.

At least he was making good use of what Qui-Gon had taught him. Who knew that those long, boring hours of reading and memorizing ancient prophecies would actually come in handy? Qui-Gon had given him far more practice at memorizing and managing things he didn’t understand than probably any other padawan in the galaxy. At least battlefield strategies made  _ sense,  _ eventually; prophecies had always seemed to get more confusing and irrelevant the longer he’d studied them.

At the thought, he choked back a sob. It was horrible of him to be bitter about his assignments when his Master was  _ dead _ .

Qui-Gon was dead.

Turns out Obi-Wan had been as bad a padawan as he’d always thought.

He didn’t know the details. There were a lot of things that he didn’t know now, ever since he’d woken up in a strange medbay on a strange ship populated by hundreds of identical troopers. What he did know is that every single one of them swore that he was actually in his thirties, that he’d been on a mission with Anakin when something happened with some sort of Sith artifact, and that he was a General who commanded a huge number of troops in a war against Separatists. They’d made a holocall to the Jedi Council, who basically told them that it was very weird what had happened, but they didn’t have any Jedi to spare, so Obi-Wan was still in charge for the time being. Even worse, when they found out what had happened to Anakin, they’d put Obi-Wan in charge of both the 212th  _ and _ the 501st.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, and released his grief, anger, and fear into the Force. Or, at the very least, he did his best to release it all into the Force, and whatever may or may not have been left over got shoved into the pit of his stomach where he could ignore it. He needed to focus. He could do this.

He did, after all, have experience in leading people to their deaths.

Obi-Wan scowled and pushed that thought away as well. Then he scrolled back up a few paragraphs on his datapad, trying to figure out at what point he’d stopped paying attention to what he was reading. Ah, yes. Darth Something-or-Other’s attempts to control aging in order to manipulate mortality.

He was paying attention to his reading with a vengeance when the door to his quarters slid open. Anakin was standing there, cradling a mousedroid in his arms, blond hair frizzy like he’d gotten shocked from working on something’s electric components.

“Are you busy, Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked.

“Incredibly,” Obi-Wan said shortly. It was probably a little bit mean, but he didn’t want to deal with Anakin right now. He barely knew the little kid, and he had other things to worry about.

“Oh,” Anakin said. “Okay.”

Obi-Wan had expected him to leave. Instead, Anakin sat down, just on the other side of the doorway. Technically staying out of Obi-Wan’s space. Technically not bothering him.

Obi-Wan had expected him to start chattering.

Instead, Anakin just took some tools out of a pocket and started working on the mousedroid. Obi-Wan waited a few more moments, still expecting whatever it was that Anakin was going to start talking nonsense about.

There was a small zap. Anakin frowned. He grabbed a different tool.

Slowly, Obi-Wan went back to his reading. They sat in silence together for a while, working on their separate projects. Obi-Wan almost started to relax. It was easier, somehow, with Anakin around. He felt a little less like he was completely alone in his predicament.

Strange, how much of a comfort the little kid was.

With Anakin humming and clicking in Binary at the mousedroid in the background, Obi-Wan finished his reading on the Sith artifacts. The article didn’t have any conclusive answers for him, but it gave him a few ideas to narrow down the research. He should probably get back to reading the battle manuals that Waxer had given him, then spend a few hours meditating; both to ask for advice from the Force and to get a bit of rest and regain his energy without wasting time on sleep. He couldn’t hold up this war forever, after all. He’d have to figure out a strategy for tomorrow that hopefully ended up with a lot of destroyed droids and not nearly as many trooper casualties.

Obi-Wan yawned despite himself. He glanced at the chrono and noticed that the time was far past the usual crècheling curfew. Anakin ought to be sleeping.

“I had a dream where Master Yoda was riding a womp rat,” Anakin said, seemingly out of the black.

“That so?” Obi-Wan asked, with a confused smile. Anakin was always saying the most absurd things, and Obi-Wan never knew how to react to it.

“You were there too,” Anakin said. He was still tinkering with the droid, not looking at Obi-Wan.

“Really,” Obi-Wan said. It was not quite a question.

“Boil made me take a nap earlier,” Anakin said, making a face. “I’m  _ nine. _ ”

“Commander Cody said that Boil was the resident child expert,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m sure your nap was for the best.”

“Well I think it’s poodoo,” Anakin said, bluntly.

“Hmm,” Obi-Wan said, noncommittally. “Speaking of naps, it’s past curfew for you, youngling.”

“Aww, but I’m not tired!” Anakin said. “I already had a nap!”

“No arguing,” Obi-Wan said gently. “Do you want me to walk you back to yours and Ahsoka’s quarters?”

Ahsoka, apparently, was Anakin’s padawan. Why Anakin had chosen to take on a padawan in the middle of a war was beyond Obi-Wan’s comprehension. Why the Council had allowed Anakin a padawan, in the middle of a  _ war _ , and at an age where he could barely be beyond padawanship  _ himself _ , was also beyond Obi-Wan’s comprehension. Still, it was not for him to question the Council’s decisions.

Qui-Gon might have, but not Obi-Wan.

“Can I stay here?” Anakin asked. “I think Ahsoka thinks I’m annoying.”

Obi-Wan hoped that Anakin and Ahsoka didn’t have the same kind of strained Master-Padawan relationship that he and Qui-Gon often had. He sighed. “Sure, Anakin. My bed’s in there, you can sleep in it for tonight.”

Anakin finally scooted past the threshold. With a flick of his wrist, Obi-Wan shut the door with the Force.

“Where are  _ you _ going to sleep?” Anakin asked.

“I’ve got studying to do,” Obi-Wan said. “I doubt I’ll be getting much sleep.”

“But you’ve got a battle tomorrow!” Anakin protested. “You need to rest so you can be alert or you’ll  _ die! _ ”

The problem with crèchelings, Obi-Wan had always thought, is that they had a tendency to be exceedingly blunt, all of the time.

“I’ll be fine,” Obi-Wan reassured. “With meditation and the Force, it’ll be like I slept the whole night.”

Anakin clearly didn’t believe him. “But  _ Qui-Gon _ said—”

“Well, Qui-Gon’s not here!” Obi-Wan said, a little sharper than he meant to. 

Anakin shrunk back immediately, clutching the droid tightly. Kriff.

Obi-Wan took a breath to regain his composure and release his emotions into the Force. That had been very un-Jedi-like of him. Jedi were not thoughtlessly cruel to little kids.

“My apologies,” Obi-Wan said gently. “There was no reason for me to snap at you like that. I won’t do it again.”

After a hesitation, Anakin nodded an acceptance. 

There was awkward silence for a few moments. Then, slowly, Anakin said, “My mom said that sometimes people lash out when they’re grieving. That you have to be patient with them, because they have too much hurt in their heart and it tries to get out any way it can.”

“Your mother is a wise woman,” Obi-Wan said.

Anakin nodded again. “I miss Qui-Gon a lot, but you miss him a whole lot more,” he said, in that blunt, far-knowing way of his. “It’s okay to be sad about it.”

“I’m not sad,” Obi-Wan denied automatically. “Qui-Gon has become one with the Force. That isn’t something to—to be  _ sad  _ about.”

Anakin frowned at Obi-Wan’s denial, but apparently decided it wasn’t worth an argument. 

“Okay,” he said. “Good night, Obi-Wan.” 

He closed up the mousedroid, stood up and disappeared into Obi-Wan’s bedroom, taking the droid with him. The door automatically shut behind him.

Obi-Wan stared at the closed door for a moment, feeling like he’d done something wrong, yet again. Then he sighed and headed towards the sink and self-heating kettle, intending to make a pot of tea. 

These battle strategies weren’t going to learn themselves. He still had a long night ahead of him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In some abstract way, he knew that this war would be different from Melida/Daan. It wasn’t until contact with the enemy that he realized what a complete shock it was going to be. Melida/Daan had been a war orchestrated by children. This war…
> 
> This war was very grown-up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, as you can see, I've been convinced to make this more than a oneshot. It's actually going to be a series now.

Fighting a war for the Republic was nothing like Melida/Daan.

First of all, Obi-Wan had a lightsaber this time. He actually had two; Anakin’s lightsaber had been confiscated for the moment, since he had no idea how to use it, but Obi-Wan wasn’t going to be using Anakin’s lightsaber. The familiar weapon made him so much more  _ effective _ than he had been back then, armed with noisemakers and a vibroshiv and occasionally a blaster. The ease with which Obi-Wan could cut down the enemy was almost  _ frightening _ , and he thought he might be glad that he hadn’t had it on Melida/Daan when things got serious. 

Secondly, open warfare went against every single war-related instinct he’d gotten from Melida/Daan. When he was with The Young, their only advantage had been surprise, every single time. Having the enemy know they were there made every cell in Obi-Wan’s body want to cut and run, regroup and find a new advantage. 

That wasn’t how the Republic did things, though. Most maneuvers were about meeting the enemy head on, with a Jedi leading the charge and deflecting the worst of the blasterfire. According to Commander Cody, a lightsaber was one of the most effective weapons against Separatist droids, especially the B2s.

Obi-Wan was unused to using the holo displays to demonstrate battle strategies, but he was used to planning with others. It was almost a relief that this was one thing that  _ was  _ the same as Melida/Daan. The Council had told him that he was in charge of this battle, in charge of the 212th and the 501st. He had drafted plans all night with the intelligence he had been provided, and when morning had come he still felt so unsure, so worried about being the one directing these troopers to die. Then Cody had shown up in the small meeting room of the bridge, and Captain Rex of the 501st and Padawan Ahsoka Tano had joined them, and when he presented the plan, they’d  _ criticized  _ it. They pointed out flaws and weaknesses, gave their own alternatives, and by the  _ Force _ did he miss Nield and Cerasi but he was so  _ glad _ now that they had given him the skills to do this. When he had walked out of the meeting to brief the rest of the 212th on the revised work, he felt that he had a  _ good _ plan, and not just a poor attempt of some  _ outsider _ to push soldiers at a goal without really understanding the game.

In some abstract way, he knew that this war would be different from Melida/Daan. It wasn’t until contact with the enemy that he realized what a complete shock it was going to be. Melida/Daan had been a war orchestrated by children. This war…

This war was very grown-up.

“We’re going to charge,” Cody said. His helmet was almost pressed against Obi-Wan’s forehead, proximity the only thing allowing Obi-Wan to hear him over the din of battle. “You ready?”

Obi-Wan was not ready.

Obi-Wan nodded anyway.

“Let’s go, boys!” Cody shouted, and they were over the barricades. Obi-Wan was on point, moving purely by the Force’s whims; there was so much blasterfire that if he consciously thought about it, he’d definitely get shot. 

Then he was among the droids, slashing and hacking and jumping around to distract them. Ataru was an aggressive form, not a defensive form, which meant that the best way he could protect his men would be by making himself a bigger and more threatening target. So he did. He cut through droids like blasterfire through flimsifoil, bouncing from one to another without giving them time to react. They spun towards him, blasters in the air, trying to hit the threat from above. They weren’t fast enough.

“Rollies inbound!” someone shouted.

Obi-Wan blinked, at first not processing the words, and then not understanding what they meant.

The moment of hesitation was a mistake. There was burning in his right side, and he fell off the droid he’d bounced onto with a cry. His lightsaber fell from his hand, but he barely noticed as he focused on shoving the pain into the Force. He had people depending on him; he couldn’t call it quits from a little plasma burn.

He dodged before he realized why, and instinctively called his lightsaber to him. A droid popped open just above him, its legs just missing his shoulder. This one was a droideka—it had a force field, embedded blasters, and a more circular build. Blasterfire couldn’t penetrate the shields, so they were particularly difficult to destroy. The last time he and Qui-Gon had faced these, they’d had to run. The blasterfire they’d deflected had merely ricocheted all over, and they hadn’t had time to figure out how to get through the shields.

But now he was already inside the shield, thanks to it rolling directly up to him.

He slashed at its arms, destroying the blasters in one swoop, and then stabbed its head. With that one down, he moved on to the next one. He had a couple of droid poppers in his pockets, thanks to Waxer, and he activated and gently rolled one toward the droideka. When the popper popped, he finished off that one too. He turned to the last one, only to see that Cody and some other troopers had already demolished it. Cody gave him a grim nod, and they pressed forward.

The afternoon dragged on, with what seemed like endless waves of droids. Obi-Wan was starting to regret learning such an acrobatic saber style. Ataru was about using swift and overwhelming force to take down an enemy, but it used a lot of energy, and it was difficult to maintain when his enemy was infinite and tireless. The 212th needed him, though, so he’d keep it up until he physically couldn’t any longer. They’d already lost too many. Dying screams had pierced the air all day, at a lower pitch than what he’d gotten used to but nevertheless haunting his mind. Worse, this time he was attuned enough to the Force that he could feel their lives individually blinking out. He forced himself not to think about it. There’d be time for breakdowns later.

Another shot from the right hit him in the chestplate, and he thanked the Force that he had armor. He was knocked onto his back, and it  _ hurt _ , but hurt was better than dead, which is what he was going to be if he kept leaving his right side open like that. He’d gotten too used to being on Qui-Gon’s left; to Qui-Gon protecting him. If he survived this, he was going to need to do a lot of solo training to get him used to working as an individual rather than as a duo.

That, of course, was predicated on him surviving this.

He found himself yanked to his feet by a trooper. “Come on, General, you’re okay!” The tone was assuring, and worried, not irritated. Obi-Wan stumbled, but he was running with the rest of them, then ahead of them. He was okay. He could do this.

From what he remembered of the battle plans, they were almost at the far edge of the Separatist fortification. No doubt this would be where all the really bad stuff was. He was determined to protect the men of the 212th at any cost.  _ Any _ cost. As they turned the corner of the destroyed city (and oh, how it reminded him of Zehava, rubbled and ruined and eerily quiet when there wasn’t blasterfire or explosions) he drew on the Force for a last burst of energy.

He didn’t need it. They found themselves facing white plastoid.

Thank the Force for Ahsoka and the 501st.

With the sector secured, they focused on the wounded and the dead. Slowly, they made their way back towards where they started, destroying any droids that still moved and rescuing any troopers that did the same. Obi-Wan spent most of the time using the Force to get troopers with critical injuries onto stretchers. Apparently, a Jedi was invaluable for moving patients without causing further trauma, at least when carefully directed by a medic. He wished he had training in Force Healing; if he’d taken those sorts of electives he might actually be able to help his troopers rather than merely preventing further harm. But the past was gone and all he could do was focus on the present, so he did his best to prevent harm and spent the afternoon ferrying troopers to the medic tents and the medevac ship. 

Once they had tended to the living, it was time to collect the dead.

On Melida/Daan, they had buried the dead. Here, they used pyres. Obi-Wan couldn’t tell if he was overwhelmed by the task or numb to it. All he knew was that as the evening went on, his connection to the Force faded to almost a background whisper. Dead eyes were glassy no matter what war you fought in, turns out, and yet it seemed that in their sightless reflections he could see ghosts.

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep him in the present moment.

They worked late into the night, the clone troopers murmuring prayers for their dead and the 501st clone medics patching up all those who weren’t bad off enough to require a medevac by the 212th. Obi-Wan helped where he could: applying bacta patches, comforting troopers lost in grief, manning communications between the ground and the ships. At some point Boil made him sit down for half a ration bar and some cold instant caf, but other than that Obi-Wan was busy doing everything he could to ease the burden of warfare. This, too, was familiar.

Finally, as the suns were dawning, they boarded transports to be taken back to the  _ Negotiator _ . Ahsoka and Obi-Wan ended up in the same transport, one of the last to load up, along with Cody and Waxer, and Captain Rex, Lieutenant Jesse, and the medics of the 501st. It was a very quiet trip; a combination of exhaustion, numbness, and grief hung thick in the air.

Obi-Wan barely stepped off the ramp after they had landed before he heard a high-pitched, “ _ Obi-Wan! _ ” and something plowed into his stomach hard enough to make him stumble back into Cody. Obi-Wan let out a hiss of pain as he wrapped his arms around the little kid clinging to his neck, squeezing his eyes shut while he automatically released his pain into the Force. He felt Cody gently push him upright again, and Obi-Wan carefully rebalanced himself.

When he opened his eyes again, he was met with a worried glare from Anakin. “Obi-Wan, you’re  _ hurt! _ ”

“It’s not that bad,” Obi-Wan said reassuringly.

“You’re  _ injured _ ?” Medic Kix asked. “Karking—of course you are.  _ Why  _ didn’t you come to the medical tent?”

Obi-Wan gave an apologetic grimace to the medic who now had a vice-grip on his arm and was practically dragging him and Anakin towards the medbay. “I forgot,” he said.

“You  _ forgot _ that we had a whole tent set up to treat battle injuries? Despite spending half the night bringing other troopers there?”

“I forgot I was injured,” Obi-Wan corrected. “I was releasing the pain into the Force. I just stopped noticing it after a while. And I was busy.”

Medic Kix let out a series of colorful swears in Mando’a. Some of them Obi-Wan hadn’t even heard before. “Anakin, if you notice General Kenobi hurt and not coming to the medbay in the future, you tell me or another medic, got it? No exceptions.”

Obi-Wan would have spluttered about the medic enlisting a nine-year-old to bully him into getting medical care, but he was exhausted, and in pain, and honestly he kind of deserved it. If he could forget about something like getting  _ shot _ , he probably did need a nine-year-old to point out the astoundingly obvious.

The medic bossed him through a full checkup and slathered warm bacta on his injuries while Obi-Wan did his best to pay attention to what Medic Kix was telling him, which mostly seemed to be a rant about how often Obi-Wan did this, to the point there was a note in his medical record so that any medic who had to work with him knew that he constantly hid and downplayed injuries, and how difficult Jedi made Kix’s job, and how much he pitied the medics of the 212th, and how he would very much appreciate it if Cody would step up and impress upon Obi-Wan that medics were not an enemy but by the Force if he kept this up they could certainly be persuaded to become one. Then, when he finished Obi-Wan’s checkup, he pushed the Padawan backwards onto the cot. 

“You will sleep in here for at  _ least _ six hours or I’m giving you a sedative,” Medic Kix said. “And when you wake up you’re not allowed to leave unless I  _ personally _ give the go-ahead. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.” It was the only answer Obi-Wan could give.

“Don’t call me sir,” the medic corrected, less harshly than anything else he’d said to Obi-Wan all day. “You’ve got a higher rank than I do.”

“Yes, Medic Kix,” Obi-Wan said.

Medic Kix left to help other troopers. Anakin—who had been sitting so silent and still that Obi-Wan almost forgot he was there—waited until Kix was out of sight and then crawled up onto the cot and curled up on Obi-Wan’s uninjured side.

Something was clearly bothering the little kid, with the way he was clinging to Obi-Wan’s tunic. Obi-Wan squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Anakin flinched at the question, but answered promptly. “I was worried I wouldn’t ever see you again,” he mumbled. “I just  _ knew _ you were hurt somehow, and I was scared you would die and leave me here alone.”

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan said, and he was. The poor kid had been thrust into a completely new and dangerous situation, half a galaxy from home, where Obi-Wan was the only one he knew, and Obi-Wan had disappeared while Anakin was sleeping only to come back injured. The fact that he didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter changed nothing. So he said the only thing he could. “I’m here now.”

“I know,” Anakin said, squirming into a more comfortable position but not letting go of Obi-Wan. He gave a small sigh, then stayed quiet and still. Either he was asleep, or he was doing a good job of pretending it.

Obi-Wan decided he ought to follow suit. He closed his eyes, and let his exhausted self rest.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle is over, and they have won. Now all that's left to do is figure everything else out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up there is discussion of both slavery in this chapter and issues with food. Neither of them are explicit, they're both mostly just alluded to, but I thought it was important to give a small warning just in case.

Obi-Wan actually slept for eleven hours, and he was quite miffed that neither Kix nor Anakin woke him up, especially when he found out that he was supposed to write an after-action report  _ and _ give a verbal report to the Council. Not only was Kix unrepentant, but he also demanded that Obi-Wan go to the mess hall and eat a full meal before he started on those reports. He enlisted Anakin as his agent on the outside, telling him to report back if Obi-Wan did not do as he was told.

Obi-Wan felt that there was no more effective bully than a medic. He already knew that, of course, but Master Che had always tried to kindly persuade him that it was in his best interest to do as the healer said. Kix, on the other hand, simply knew that he was right and would give a  _ look _ when you disobeyed that made you shape up immediately. Obi-Wan was well aware it wasn’t a Force suggestion, but it certainly was just as effective.

Still, Kix  _ did _ let him go, which Obi-Wan doubted would have happened under a Temple healer, who always seemed to do as much as they possibly could to keep him under observation for at least twenty-four hours no matter  _ what _ he did. The bacta had worked its way through while he was asleep and reduced his injury from a somewhat serious plasma burn to something no more irritating than a bad sunburn, so once Kix had reapplied bacta and covered it with gauze, Obi-Wan was released—under the strict condition that he go directly to dinner before even  _ thinking _ about doing anything else, and that he was careful not to aggravate the still-healing injury. Obi-Wan, well aware that he hadn’t eaten anything since they were still planetside, and not interested in doing anything that would land him back in the medbay, had no reason to disagree with the medic’s orders.

Obi-Wan and Anakin sat down at an empty table in the mess hall with their food, but within a few minutes they had been joined by Ghosts. Specifically, Boil, Waxer, and Wooley. Waxer sat on Obi-Wan’s left, Boil sat on Anakin’s right, and Wooley sat across the table in front of them. 

Obi-Wan stiffened, wondering if he was in trouble. He’d been the target of both his crèchemates’ tricks and well-meaning Jedi masters’ interventions enough that he recognized when he was about to be ganged up on. Waxer, noticing his concern, pressed his pauldron against Obi-Wan’s shoulder in a way that was clearly supposed to be comforting. 

Obi-Wan relaxed only slightly.

“How was the medbay?” Waxer asked. “You’ve been there all day, and Kix wouldn’t let anyone see you.”

“Fine,” Obi-Wan said. “Medic Kix is...quite the character.”

Wooley laughed at the diplomatic answer. “He’s significantly less of a  _shabuir_ [1] when you don’t hide injuries from him,” he reprimanded gently.

Obi-Wan glared. “I wasn’t  _ trying _ to hide it, I genuinely forgot I was hurt. I’m not stupid enough to intentionally irritate a medic.”

The blatant disbelief on all three of the Ghosts’ faces made Obi-Wan’s annoyance shoot up. He  _ wasn’t! _

He wasn’t going to argue, however. He was going to take the high ground, and change the subject. “Anakin, have you been getting all your meals? I apologize for not being able to check up on you for the last few days.”

Anakin was already most of the way through his rations, and they’d been sitting down for maybe two minutes. He gulped down what was in his mouth, and then, brightly, said, “Yeah! They feed me three times a day here, it’s  _ wizard! _ ”

Obi-Wan felt a spike of alarm in the Force, and knew it wasn’t just him that felt that way.

“...How often did Watto feed you?” Obi-Wan asked, already knowing he wouldn’t like the answer.

“Once a day, unless I was bad,” Anakin said. “Sometimes Mom got some food from secret places, and we’d have  _ two _ meals in a day!”

Obi-Wan was furious. He was pretty sure the Ghosts around him were as well. 

Anakin shrank down, fearing  _ something, _ and Obi-Wan instantly shoved the anger into the pit of his stomach, not wanting to frighten the boy. He was the adult here, the responsible one. He couldn’t be having useless fits of anger about things that could not be changed, especially when it had such a detrimental effect on Anakin.

“Anakin,” he said gently. The nine-year-old’s head shot up, eyes wary. “I’m not mad at you, I  _ promise _ . I’m glad you told me that, and I need you to know something important. Here, you get three meals a day, alright?  _ Every _ day. And you’ll never get food taken away for being bad, ever.”

Anakin had a strange look in his eyes, but he nodded. “Okay, Obi-Wan.”

Then he went back to scarfing down the rest of his food. Obi-Wan picked up a fork and finally started eating his own. With his other hand, he took out his comm and set alarms for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He was used to working through meals; he and Qui-Gon were always busy, and usually on a mission, and the days he missed a meal or two were more frequent than the days he did not, but he had made a promise to Anakin, and he intended to keep it.

After a few moments of quiet, Wooley said, “The Commander said to tell you that once you’ve finished eating, the Jedi Council wants to talk to you.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but frown. It was almost always a bad sign if he was being called before the Council, especially if they wanted him specifically. The fact that he already knew that he was supposed to report to the Council didn’t deter his worry. 

It would be worse if he put it off though. He tried to get up. He’d eaten half his meal, it would be fine.

Waxer and Boil both reached out to grab an arm and yank him back down. “You have to  _ finish _ eating first,” Boil said. “Neither Kix nor Cody will be happy if you don’t.”

It seemed that Medic Kix had mobilized every single trooper and Anakin against Obi-Wan, which seemed very unfair to him. He  _ wasn’t _ that bad. He  _ wasn’t! _

Very properly, but as fast as politely possible, Obi-Wan finished his food. If anything, the Ghosts seemed amused at his polite irritation. This time, when he stood up, the Ghosts and Anakin stood with him. They all took their trays to the return, and headed for the exit.

“Boil and Wooley will escort you up to the bridge,” Waxer said. “I’m taking Anakin to one of the training decks. Torrent wants their Jedi back for a bit. Mostly, I think, to play flying deathball.”

“Flying  _ deathball? _ ” Obi-Wan asked.

“Apparently it’s very fun,” Waxer said. “I heard from Fives that Skywalker and Ahsoka usually play on one team against everyone else, but I think they’re switching that up this time, for obvious reasons.”

“Is it like podracing?” Anakin asked.

“According to Echo, it’s more fun than podracing,” Boil said.

“I’m in!” Anakin said, almost jumping up and down in anticipation.

Obi-Wan frowned. “Stay safe,” he told Anakin. Then, not wanting to dampen spirits, he added, “Have fun.”

“Have fun talking to the Council!” Anakin said as they parted ways. Obi-Wan gave a small wave and a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

As Anakin left, Obi-Wan felt considerably less relaxed. He attributed it to his dislike of going before the Council. It was always such an  _ event _ , with Qui-Gon arguing with everything the Council said, or the Council reprimanding them for a decision that Qui-Gon had made, or the Council interrogating them intensely because Obi-Wan wasn’t very good at giving reports sometimes and Qui-Gon liked to conveniently leave out details.

All the same, the thought of facing the Council  _ without _ Qui-Gon filled him with dread and grief. The last time he’d talked to the Council without Qui-Gon had been Pijal, when he’d gone behind his Master’s back. He’d been wrong, then, and they’d almost died for it. They’d made it out alive, and had managed to save nearly everyone, but Obi-Wan  _ still _ couldn’t take the pilot’s seat of a ship without near-crippling panic and dread. He’d been working on that with his master, and also Master Plo Koon, but even a bit of atmospheric turbulence would lead to him freezing up at the controls, or worse, throwing up once they landed. He also struggled to let anyone else handle his lightsaber, and always double-checked that all the components were in place and correctly functioning before getting into any situation that might require the use of it.

Boil and Wooley took him to the entry for the bridge, and then left to attend to their duties. Obi-Wan took a centering breath. It was time to do his own duty.

When Obi-Wan entered the bridge, he saw Commander Cody and Ahsoka sitting near the holoprojector, typing on datapads. Ahsoka noticed him first. “Master Obi-Wan!” she said, excited.

“It’s, ah, still Padawan Obi-Wan,” Obi-Wan corrected awkwardly.

“How are you, General?” Cody asked.

“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan said. Familiar looks of disbelief greeted him, and he scowled and crossed his arms like an angry youngling. How he would like to have a _conversation_ with the older him that made everyone think he was constantly lying. “If you can’t trust my words, can you at _least_ believe that Medic Kix wouldn’t let me out if I was not fine?”

Ahsoka’s expression softened. “Yeah, okay,” she said. “I’ll believe you  _ this _ time.”

They opened up the comm. Obi-Wan folded his arms into his sleeves, the way Qui-Gon had taught him to. If he only let his nerves affect his hands, and his hands were hidden by the sleeves, then no one would know if he was worried or not.

Most of the faces on today’s Council were familiar, but some were not. Some were, but not as Council members. It only reinforced how abnormal and absurd this whole thing was. It was not even a full Council, and the fact that a mere five Council members could inspire such bewilderment made him worry about how unnerving it would be to see the full Council.

Obi-Wan bowed politely.

“Kenobi,” Master Windu said. “I’m glad to see you with us. How are you?”

“The medic cleared me as fine,” Obi-Wan said.

“Hmm, and disagree, do you, with the medic’s statement?” Yoda asked.

“Not at all,” Obi-Wan said serenely. “But nobody believes me if I don’t bring up the medical clearance.”

Yoda’s ears twitched in amusement. It did not improve Obi-Wan’s mood.

The Council moved on to business, after that. They discussed the battle, and Obi-Wan tried to give a good report, not really sure what they were expecting from it. He was glad that Ahsoka and Cody were there to fill in when he stumbled. The Council was known for stoic, unreadable faces, but Yoda, at least, seemed pleased by the outcome.

Finally, they were finished with the discussion of his and other people’s battles. Yoda turned back to Obi-Wan. “A cure, have you found, for your predicament?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “A few leads, but nothing solid.”

“Hmm,” Yoda said. “The artifact, I feel you will need. With Dooku, we believe it is. On Sevarcos, you will find him.”

“You think that having the artifact will help figure out how to reverse this?”

“Without the artifact, I feel, unable you will be  _ to _ reverse it.”

Obi-Wan bowed in acceptance.

“Take Commander Cody with you,” Master Windu said. “You may need backup.”

“But that would leave the 212th without  _ both _ it’s leaders!” Obi-Wan said, then winced. He hadn’t meant to speak out of turn. Surely the Council already had a plan for that.

“You’re currently not in active combat,” Windu said. “Padawan Tano can take over while you retrieve the artifact. But with Skywalker out of commission, Cody’s your best backup.”

“Speaking of, what about Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Leave him with Padawan Tano. It should be safe enough.”

Obi-Wan had to bite his cheek to keep from snapping that a child in a war zone was anything  _ but  _ safe enough. The Council was wiser than he was, more attuned to the Force, more experienced. He had to trust that they knew best.

Ahsoka, apparently, didn’t feel the same way. “Master Windu, this is a  _ war zone! _ ” she said. “Surely it would be better to take Anakin back to the Temple?”

“Too long, that would take,” Yoda said. “Halfway across the galaxy, you are. To stay close to Obi-Wan, you must, so that more quickly the cure can be administered and Master Skywalker returned to a normal state.”

Ahsoka’s face fell. Not in disappointment, not quite in anger, but in some sort of way that Obi-Wan knew meant she didn’t agree. “Yes, Master Yoda,” she said anyway, bowing respectfully.

There were a few more orders of business, and then the meeting finally ended. Obi-Wan looked at his companions. Ahsoka looked worried and overwhelmed. Cody just seemed exhausted.

“We’ll leave tomorrow morning, General,” Cody said. “Get some rest and pack your things. Commander Tano and I need to discuss how to handle things while we’re gone.”

Obi-Wan nodded, turning to leave.

The battle was over, and they had won.

Now, he just had to figure everything else out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1shabuir: like jerk, but stronger[return to text]
> 
> So that's the first fic of the series! The next one I'm hoping to start posting sometime in the next couple weeks, but I like to have most of a fic written before I start posting, mostly so that I and everyone else know how many chapters a fic will be at the end, lmao. In true Star Wars fashion, the next fic is actually going to be a prequel to this one, and then the third fic will be a sequel.


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